Free as a Bird

Life has become so predictable lately. I wake up at 5:30am, drag myself to drive to work, and by 7:15am I would have passed through Jalan Duta toll to beat the traffic heading to my office. I would slave myself doing whatever it is that I am getting paid for, slope back exhausted and agitated, and by 8:30pm I would have reached Jalan Duta toll again heading back home. I would stop somewhere to grab something to eat, reach home by 9:00pm, freshen up then vegetate in front of the TV, and before I know it I would have fallen asleep on the sofa.

The morning routine would start as early as 4:30am if I were to head to another project office of 200km away to attend meetings at 10:00am. By 6:00am I would have checked in KLIA and board the plane heading to my destination. I would still be sulking when the steward/stewardess serves the pathetic peanuts and juice for the 45 minute journey, for losing an hour of beauty sleep.

I must have been too tired or still too sleepy to sulk that particular morning as the plane was about to touchdown, when I looked out the window I suddenly felt so free like a bird; home, home and dry; like a homing bird I’ll fly; as a bird on wings…

Ah, my mundane life is indeed beautiful!

A Day in a Museum – Musee de Louvre (Paris Spring ‘08)

Alright, I confess here and now that I am stuck in this love/hate relationship with blogging.

At times in between meetings my mind enjoys that pit-stop-wandering, and a few stories, wit, insight and clever thought suddenly springs, yet  finding the right time/mood to craft witty, meaningful and interesting prose is almost impossible, at least that’s the way it seems to me now.

My mind is now behaving as if it is spending a day in a museum, a bit of everything comes into play. And all these bits serve as a fizzing intro to the interconnecting myriad of corporate/personal life, the universe and everything.

 

The Once A Simple Life

 

(Note: This was written 2 weeks ago as some sort of a sequel to my previous entry on kampong life)

 

It’s now 7:00am and unlike the usual rush hour morning beating the traffic to make it to office on time; I am now typing this journal at the most wonderful place I can ever wish for, enjoying my rather long year-end vacation with a specific mission (hope to write more about it later). I am now seated at the worn out sofa at my family home’s verandah back in the kampong.

 

I don’t know what it is with kampong ambiance which makes as though the clock ticking away very slowly, the day seems to be passing by very leisurely. The air is so soothing and refreshing, it seems like it is filled with more oxygen that enables me to breathe more calmly. The sound and feeling of calmness or nothingness around make it the most ideal place to de-stress any tired bodies.    

 

Perched on the rambutan trees that had just finished delivering the bountiful fruits, is a family of small little birdies. It is not as though there were no birds back in KL but the serene kampong ambiance makes the birds’ lovely chirping sounds more convincing and serenading. There are also cockerels which seem to have no other things in mind besides flirting and running after the voluptuous hens, although there’s clearly a group of young broods still trailing behind the hens. Hei guys, can you at least let the hens enjoy the leftover rice which Mak has just spread on the feeding ground first! And can anyone tell what exactly those funny looking birds are trying to say while cuckooing on top of the durian trees?

 

From where I am jotting this note, I can see Pak De is busy accumulating the dry rambutan & chempedak leaves and old coconut branches for burning. His IC says he is already 80 years old but we all suspect he is actually 5 years if not older than what the paper says, since his energy or rather quite youthful look makes people half his age envious with both curiosity and guilt. Can you imagine not seeing obvious strays of grey hair for 80-year old man, and when we pester him to share his secrets, he just smiles and says maybe it is all the bitter ulam-ulam he is very fond of. Oookie, I guess I’ll just stick to visiting the hair salon for the necessary hair makeover then, *chuckle*.

 

Pak De has been up to his sleeves since 6:30am this morning while I was still shivering taking shower and washing up before the prayer this morning. Once he is done with them, he moves on to water the chili trees, the lady fingers, the brinjals, and all the ulam-ulam. His tiny garden seems to provide endless supplies of fresh vegetables for him and Kak T, his daughter who is staying with him after Mak De passed away about 15 years ago. Kak T a fulltime housewife and her lovely family of 6 are like my own family, not just cousins; and I suspect Mak sometimes feels that too. Well, being away from home, it is quite hard for me and my sister to be home for every single kenduri that Mak and Bapak arrange. It is Kak T, plus Mak Su, who has always been helping Mak prepare for the all kenduris. Sometimes, when I am home and almost bringing down the kitchen looking for ingredients to make asam pedas, it is Kak T would inform me where Mak is keeping all the asam keping, which part of Mak’s small garden is housing the daun kesum and all.

 

Sadly, it seems like life back in kampong is not all that rosy all the times nowadays; there are genetic urban problems which seem to be creeping slowly into the once lovely fairy tale like kampong life. That is what Mak, Bapak, and Kak T have been telling me and my sister when we confess how we enjoy our short stay back in kampong. There are increasing numbers of burglaries by desperate drug addicts, there are also hideous stories being discreetly passed around the households on unwanted and out-of-wedlock pregnancies among teenagers and college-going students, and the occurrence has become much more rampant. Kak Y, another cousin, who is a medical officer at the nearby hospital’s maternity ward, has also been supporting the story by sharing with me the grim and sky-rocketing numbers of such incidents.    

 

That’s the price of modernization I supposed, not that I am condoning the ugly acts. My once a sleepy hollow small town is transforming into a bigger township, and with all those modern factories and community colleges mushrooming almost every other day, there bound to be exceptions to the patronizing glory stories.

A Walk in the Park – Paris, Spring ‘08

This is indeed a wonderful weekend. I am still in jubilant mood. I just have to record this rare happy moment I am experiencing now in this journal.

After months of burning midnight oil, going through relentless meetings, cracking heads to finalise the technical architecture on how this thing is gonna save the world (ok, I am exaggerating here, the thing is only supposed to open up more opportunities for the company), the last hurdle before we get our hands dirty in the actual work finally ended very sweetly last evening. This thing I wish to call Project Futuristic finally got the encouraging nod from the members of the committee who endorses cheque writing of many zeroes at the back. Alhamdulillah. Wuhooo!!! Of course that came after being grilled, attacked, ambushed, and fired with missiles, shotguns, rifles, etc from the committee. For about an hour, while presenting my case, I just felt like a turkey surrounded by people armed with knife and dagger who were so eager to slaughter me so I can grace their Thanksgiving dinners   

What makes the victory even sweeter and humbling is that, Project Futuristic proceeds through amidst the numerous cancellations of many other mega projects, understandably due to the forecasted downturn performance in the next years.

Now, whose names should I write on the cheques? Anyone volunteers to buy me flight ticket to Paris so I can enjoy Autumn there, just like I had enjoyed it last Spring?    Wuhooo!!! I can just sleep through this weekend imagining walking through Paris again. Lalalalalalalala…

Under My Duvet – Year 2

Who the heck is this anonymous blogger? I am not quite sure how many would be asking that question, since I know this tiny space is not explosive nor groovy nor haffenin as many other good blogs out there that worth dropping by. But, I was pretty pleasantly surprised when I noticed that there was quite an increase of hoppers stopping by my former little space, especially those coming either from The Queen/Matron of Malaysian Bloggers, Kak Teh, or from her Heathrow-like busy Sentral Station. Being a pathetic and sporadic blogger that I am i.e. my blog posts are very minimal and irregular, what I wrote is so boring it can even put a hyperactive cat to doze, I don’t know how to actively mingle virtually aka dropping comments, leaving trails at others’ although I have been a stalker to those many good blogs for years, it sure is nice and humbling when my former site is listed in both Kak Teh and Sentral Station.

God knows that probably was/is the main drive on why I keep struggling to let the ink flowing although honestly I don’t have much to share. My very hectic and demanding career sometimes makes me overlook that I do have a blog (yes, you, my most nearest & dearest, my wonderful colleagues, friends of friends, and relatives of relatives who somehow finally managed to unmask me. I am a blogger, happy? So, don’t be shy, drop a line or two, but pleeaaassseee call me as what I am identifying myself in this blogs ya …pretty pleeeaaassseee…) so occasionally when I dropped by Kak Teh and Sentral Station and I noticed my positioning was wayyyy down at the bottom, I panicked and slightly agitated, and I would scramble for anything to push my position slightly up again; hence that pretty much explained my previous post in my former site (if it can even be called a post that is); an entry about nothing since my mind was totally blank and I was contemplating to even delete the site totally. Phew!!! Thank God I didn’t, else I wouldn’t know where to park my rambling here. BTW, thanks to Ms B, the young hot yummilicious corporate jet-setting mummy; and KC the funny carefree supermom wannabe for the notes…muah..muah..muah.   

So what now? The malu-malu kucing cat is starting to come out of the bag now, don’t I at least have a courtesy to explain myself as a blogger, so at least people out there could maybe better understand why I write the way I have been writing, why I only write on things of which I have been writing, if may use Denise Richard’s reality show tagline, it’s complicated. Err… no, that’s not quite how I would explain my life now, it more like it’s boring. Yes, my life is so drop dead booooring, it only revolves around work, himself, cats, kampong,  work, himself, cats, kampong, err, I probably shouldn’t be repeating typing the components of my life here … see that’s how boring my life is.

But one thing for sure there’s one element that differentiates or more like alienates me from the rest of the happy bloggers in this whole wide web world; I am a DINK, and that is why I think Denise Richard’s tagline is very true in describing my life. Not only it is boring, it’s complicated. I probably can write a book or two about the ordeal, I may even be able to grab premium membership in Orpah’s Book Club (yeah right, wistful thinking) but as it is now I don’t even want to go near to the subject matter. There’s no more tears left in that department. Subject matter closed.

I was once reminded by a blogger friend that I need not go emotional when making blog entries, and that probably explains why my previous entries are mostly a bit impersonal, but I am only human with feelings and bad days. I am what I am.

Anyway, back to the happy blogging mode, I can’t believe that it’s been 2 years since I become part of this big virtual happy family of Malaysian life bloggers. I do hope to be able to continue scribbling, pouring my heart out on things that I wish to share, sharing my takes on life both at personal as well as corporate level. Who knows there could be souls out there who may be able to gain small benefits from reading them.

Happy 2^nd Year Blogging to me. Call me MyAnneJay, still very much NJ at heart, a Malaysian Boleh! life blogger

 

Life Lesson from a Little Birdie

 

#1 – Not everyone that poops on you is your enemy …

#2 – But, not everyone who digs you out is your friend.

Mingling 101

I should think I have gone through all the worst days of my corporate life; after having been in corporate front for more than 10 years that is. There were times when I stumbled on words, scratching my head for a few seconds looking for words to say in front of delegates of our sister company from the neighboring country and when I was at the center stage’s podium in an auditorium. There were a few occasions when I couldn’t figure out how to answer in a very politically correct tone when some BOD members raised questions which may not be that relevant to topic being discussed without sounding condescending. There were also testing times when I had to maintain my coolness emotionally although it was very clear that those meeting delegates were trying to gang up on me pushing all the blames onto me while it was clear that it was everybody’s faults.

I should think after years of accumulating the tips and tricks of growing thick skin and maintaining poker face in all kinds of bad situations, I have learnt them all. Yes, give me all shapes and sizes of corporate demons and lemons, and somehow I will find my way to make lemonades out of them.

Except one. Send me to after work parties with instructions to mingle, to build better network with your counterparts, then I will fail. Fail miserably I must further qualify. I don’t know how to mingle, I don’t know how to make small talks. I just don’t know.

Just like the other night, where I had to represent Big Kahuna at the Corporate Raya Gathering of one of our sister companies. It’s bad enough that I have yet to really get to know the names of all these people. You see them almost every other day at the cafes, in the lifts, in the surau; and most of the time it was ok to just smile to each other without really having to utter or exchange words. But not when you were on your own walked into a room full of people whom although you might have bumped into them in one occasion or another, and you had to mingle and make small talks to them. And worse still, you were still in your ruffled office attire (I just didn’t bother to change to casual dress) while these people were in their glamorous & glittering Bernard Chandran-like outfits with their most sparkling bling-bling on.

So I just did what Betty would have done in parties filled up with Whilmenas, Alexis, the Mode models, and the likes. I was fortunate to finally be able to locate CP, a fellow number/project cruncher, at a cornering table. So we just quietly and discreetly filled our plates with the barbequed lamb, grilled salmons, sates, and what not and started stuffing our face with the delicacies, paying little attentions to those glamorous counterparts.

Yes, people did drop by our tables to thank us, to acknowledge us, to make rather awkward small talks, but we suspect it was because they had to and that they had no choice. We are the devils who they have to depend on and of which without us their corporate life can potentially cripple, so-to-speak. Hmm… come to think about it, I just love playing this combination of Ugly Betty and Whilmena’s devilish character. Muahahaha!!!!

Wedding Toast to Lil Bro

Dear lil bro,

Congratulations on your wedding on the 4th day of Raya. The whole thing went pretty smooth I must say.

Your BIL and I kinda enjoyed our solitary Raya moment in this big city this year, when we made the sacrifice not to balik kampung (you so owe us big time lil bro), so we could all have a better preparation over your hantaran and all. It was joyful event for both sides of the families when both sides met face to face finally; all the wedding arrangements were made just over the phone for the past few months.

It was indeed a memorable event to our little family despite having to endure the long and tiring journey heading north, from JB (for Kak Ngah & her family), BP (for Mak/Bapak) and KL (myself and your BIL) to Sik, and not to mention the massive head-banging bumper-to-bumper traffic crawls heading back to KL.

Still, deep down I couldn’t help but repeat this question. Again, do enlighten us lil bro, why your chosen blushing bride has to be from far faraway state when you had the choice of sweeping off the feet of another fair maiden whose home is just sebelah kampung to where our family home is? Moreover, this lady’s parents have been close friends with Mak/Bapak over the years; they are all also in the same ahli jawatan kuasa masjid as Mak/Bapak.

Anyway we acknowledge that it is you, not us, who is getting married, thus it was your prerogative to decide who your better half should be. And for that we respect your decision.

I hope she treats you well, that she doesn’t break your heart. Same goes to you. You are now the first SIL on her side of the family, you have to throw away your spoilt brat attitude, and be a good example to her younger siblings.

All in all, just remember that happy marriages begin when we marry the one we love, and they blossom when we love the one we married.

Congratulations again lil bro.

Love,

Kak Long

Missing Raya Memories

They are missing. I have been searching high and low for them since this morning. They are not in the archived files of my notebook harddisk. They are not in my desktop archives either, nor are they in my portable harddisk. I can’t seem to find them anywhere. OMG! I have lost the collections of my precious memories of my celebrating Raya, last year and the previous year, and the year before that. Those were the snapshots of the happy Raya times Himself and I used to enjoy with both sides of our families.

Now all I have are mental pictures and video shots of those days as what have been permanently recorded in my memories. And I do hope they too are recorded in Himself’s memories as well.

I still have vivid remembering of those happy moments from Himself’s side of the family, although they are mostly the collections of memories of four years old or even older. For the obvious melancholic reason my memories seem to be blocking those Raya moments after Uwan, Apak, Omak & Kakak left us.

Himself and I would always make sure we were back for Mantai a few days before Raya or even Ramadan. Since we were the most flexible of the whole lot (well, Himself only has Yours Truly tagging along all these years, no other commitments, baggages, pebbles in the shoes, and what not so-to-speak), Bang Long, Bang Ngah, Bang Teh, Bang Chik, Bang Chek and Kakak had always by default delegated to us the responsibility to ferry Uwan/Apak/Omak around looking for good fresh bargain of daging kobau, lombu, ayam, itik to feed the whole clan.

Let me count how many they were. In average there were 9 members from each of Himself’ siblings, so there had to be lots and lots of rendang basah, rendang kering, gulai salai, ayam goreng, sup tulang, lemang, nasi impit, lodeh, kuah kacang, etc to be prepared. It was a painstakingly exhausting process from sourcing, cleaning, chopping, slicing, dicing, and cooking them all; but they were all worth it when the whole big family would congregate together in the night before the first Raya, enjoying every bit of the delicacies.

And after hassle and bustle of ironing tons of new clothes and the long queue to use the bathroom, we all then together walked to the mosque for the Raya Prayer the following morning. It was then followed by rounds of cooking, eating, teasing & laughing, and more rounds of cooking, eating & cleaning before we made our own way to the respective other half’s side of the families. They were undoubtly among the merriest and happiest memories preserved forever.

Reminiscing back, I think I might not mind trading my whole life to turn back the clock. Sigh! What a wistful wish!

I don’t know whether it is good or bad that all my Raya memories after being called a married woman seem to be allocated to Himself’s side of the family. It’s a bit funny too when most of those vivid moments from my side of the family are mostly coming from my childhood time.

As usual there were memories of lots and lots of firecrackers, we would be firing missiles of mercun roket to our neighbors and they definitely would be retaliating. The battle normally started after Maghrib prayer and there would be temporary ceased-fire moments when the parents from both sides shouted that it was time for Isyak prayer; and the fight would continue thereafter until we finished our good stock of fire-crackers. With no clear winner of who had won and who had lost we then converged to share our last stock of bunga api bodoh together.

And of course, how can I forget the homemade meriam buluh. Bapak was not much of an adventurous lot when he was younger (he is still isn’t now ), so when lil Bro was in his teen and he longed to compete with the neighbors on who got the loudest meriam buluh, it was Mak who helped make him one. We knew it got to be a big boom-bang one after realising the soil where lil bro half-buried the meriam buluh before lighting it to fire the night before was all burnt like hell. My Mak is one super duper cool Mak Cik Kampung, I tell ya

Sigh! And now after all these rantings and ramblings I still can’t find where I might have misplaced the CDs and DVDs containing those happy Raya memories.

And what the heck am I still glued in front of my desktop when the rest of the world are busy driving balik kampung to celebrate Raya. It’s because I am not going balik kampung this year (I will write more about it in my next entries), and that is the reason why I need the previous Raya photos so badly, so I can reminisce all those happy moments much more clearer.

Himself and I are now officially home alone in this big concrete jungle, for the first time in our Raya history in the homeland!

Spring 2008 in Paris – Disneyland

My Dear Kecik Ketot (short & tiny) DY,

“Mak Long, Boleh tak bawak kite ke tempat permainan yang kite nampak dalam kamera Mak Long tu” (Translation: “Unty, Can you bring me to the wonderful playground I saw in your camera”).

I remember you said that to me the other day.

DY (my 4-year old nephew), that is Euro Disneyland dear. I can’t promise I will bring you there dear, but I can share with you my adventure when I was there, so when you are big and you intend to go back-packing to Europe, you can use Mak Long’s guide here to roam around Paris yourself later.

It is a wonderful magical land dear. Mak Long went there alone. I wished Pak Long was with me, but he had to attend to his business in KL. I wished you, AD (his 7-year old big bro), Mama (my lil sis) and Mak/Bapak were there with me too. I would have been million times much more fun if only we were all there together. Just like the fun we all had when we spent a day at Sunway Lagoon a few months back, remember. But of course Euro Disneyland has much more games and entertainment to play with dear.

Alone or not, yes, Mak Long did manage to enjoy myself. I felt 15 years younger, I was reliving my first visit to Disneyland in Anaheim LA. Yes, it was still that playful and fun!

So DY, here is my journal on how I managed to find my own way from central Paris to Disneyland using solely Paris public transports and with some guide extracted from free brochures widely available in any hotels in Paris.

You know DY, I did my own travel arrangement in Paris, unlike the full arrangement my boss’ PA made for me for my business trip to Frankfurt/Berlin, a week before to Paris.

Can you imagine I only booked my hotel in Paris a few hours before I checked in to KLIA en route to Frankfurt/Berlin? But Thank God, the online hotel reservation system was very reliable and efficient; I immediately received a booking confirmation, of course after I surrendered my credit card details. You can use this website’s booking.com to search for suitable accommodation in Paris, and being the kiasu person that I am, I only looked for 1 or 2-star hotel since I only needed a place to sleep and take shower (after all my expenses in Paris were all from my own pocket, not the company’s). But, I insisted that the hotel must be within walking distance to Paris’ Metro system and must provide transit arrangement to Charles de Gaulle airport. So I had chosen this 2-star Libertel Montmartre Duperre, located in Rue Duperre with only about within 5-minute walking distance to Pigalle Metro station.

To get to Disneyland, you can take the Metro from Pigalle station to Nation which would take about 30 minutes. I forgot how much it costs because I purchased Metro tourist passcard with unlimited travel use to any destination covered by Metro. Once you reach Nation Metro station, you have to switch to TGV, a high speed train system, which will transport you to Marne-la-Vallée/Chessy station, which is located between Disney Village and the park entrance, in about 40 minutes.

And these photos captured in Disneyland and Walt Disney Studio should best tell the wonderful stories of the visit dear.